


Santa For A Day

by writer_on_fire01



Category: Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Amy Rohrbach is underrated, Christmas Eve, Christmas Fluff, Dick Grayson is Nightwing, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:41:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28220328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writer_on_fire01/pseuds/writer_on_fire01
Summary: Amy grants a child's Christmas wish of meeting Nightwing.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Amy Rohrbach
Comments: 6
Kudos: 69





	Santa For A Day

When Amy heads into the station the Sunday before Christmas, she does so bearing a heavy platter of cookies. Gingerbread people, a gingerbread Nightwing, and some gingerbread bats lay on top of the plate. They’re slightly singed at the corners, but in a station full of gritty and hungry bearded men whose primary form of communication comes in grunts, Amy can’t imagine anybody caring.

“Dick!” she greets, successfully capturing the attention of her coworker. She takes a stride into his cubicle. “I made cookies.” Amy hoists her offerings into the air to demonstrate.

“Wow, Ames. You’re quite the cook,” Dick marvels as he plucks a gingerbread bat from the top of the pile, biting into it with a grin. 

Amy shrugs. “Not really. They’re sorta burnt.”

Dick frowns, brows furrowing as he studies the bottom of his half-eaten cookie. “I wouldn’t have noticed if you hadn’t told me.”

“Sounds about right,” Amy surmises, setting the plate down onto his desk. He eyes one cookie in particular which is the reason Amy has chosen to give him his share first, eyes lighting up with a childlike wonder as he reaches for it.

“Aw, man. You made a me cookie!” He picks up the aforementioned biscuit between his fingers as he takes it in. It had been pretty simple to make, really. Amy had just taken one of the existing gingerbread people and, with the addition of a royal icing domino mask and a blue bird logo to the chest, it had been transformed into something greater than the sum of its parts.

“That I did,” Amy agrees, grinning with pride. “Don’t take more than two, though. There’s gotta be enough for everyone or they’ll accuse me of picking favorites, and we can’t have that.”

Dick looks from Amy to the cookie and then back again. “Sometimes I forget that you know my secret identity. Then it’s just weird when you do things like this,” he notes.

Amy’s not sure how he could possibly forget; it had been a whole ordeal, what with his getting fired over it. Of course, she’d rehired him, but that’s not the point. 

“Take the cookie,” she orders. 

Dick salutes her, obediently placing the top half of the gingerbread masterpiece into his mouth and snapping it off in his teeth.

“How do you taste?” Amy wants to know.

“Like Christmas!” Dick pumps a festive fist into the air. “I would have brought a Santa hat in, but then accusations would have been made about my not taking the job seriously, and that simply wouldn’t have been acceptable.”

Amy rolls her eyes. “Eh, who cares what they say? We’re all Santa today, anyways.” She gestures to a pile of letters sitting on Dick’s desk.

“That’s right,” remembers Dick suddenly, sifting through the pile before choosing a random letter from the middle. “Let’s crack one open, shall we?”

Usually Amy would, by this point, have gone to go hand everyone their cookies and then go do actual work. But since granting the holiday wishes of Blüdhaven’s children, spoiled brats and their needy counterparts alike, is technically part of the job, she makes an exception. 

When the tradition of the officers picking kids’ letters to Santa and answering their Christmas wishes had first surfaced in Blüdhaven’s police department, Amy really couldn’t say. After all, it’s older than her stint as an officer. All she knows is that everybody participates happily, even those who typically pride themselves hardasses. It’s fascinating.

“From Sally,” Dick reads the front of the chosen letter. “And it has a picture of...something on the front.”

Amy, having two children herself, is quite confident in her ability to decipher the fruits of the less than professional artistic endeavors they embark on from time to time. She grabs it from Dick’s hands. “Let me see that.” 

She studies it--the incomprehensible blur of black and blue crayon--before announcing, “I think it’s Nightwing.”

Dick frowns thoughtfully, then raising the remaining half of his Nightwing cookie to the page. “Yeah, seems to check out,” he concludes. 

Amy pushes him playfully on the shoulder. “Hey!” 

“It’s a beautiful drawing,” Dick claims. “You think Santa makes fun of these kids’ drawings? No. And we’re Santa, so we won’t either--right?”

“Right,” says Amy with a slight roll of her eyes. 

The letter starts as follows:

_Dear Santa Claus,_

_This year for Christmas, I want a puppy._

“Can’t do that one,” Amy observes.

“Aw, why not?”

“Parents would be pissed.”

“Well, alright, Grinch.” 

Amy ignores Dick in favor of continuing the letter.

_I also wanna prove Edgar wrong._

“Who’s Edgar?” asks Dick bemusedly, looking to Amy for her superior knowledge on the topic of children.

“Brother, I would guess,” Amy says after considering the question.

_Edgar is a stinky face and he doesn’t believe me when I told him I know Nightwing!_

Amy cracks a smile at this, looking up at Dick. “You know this girl?”

“I don’t think so,” Dick says with a helpless sort of shrug. “Maybe Edgar isn’t actually a stinky face. Maybe he’s just calling her on her bull.”

“Or both.”

“Or both,” Dick agrees. “Okay, let’s keep reading. 

_I want Santa Claus to make Nightwing come into Miss Green’s class and tell Edgar he’s WRONG. Cuz he is. Nightwing and me are_ _best friends_ _. If you don’t believe me then your a stinky face too._

_Love,_

_Sally_

“So, not brother. Classmate,” Amy concludes.

“Did…” Dick looks rather dumbfounded as he eyes the letter. “Did I just let a child call me a stinky face?”

Amy lets out a bark of laughter, clapping him on the back. “Think you did, Grayson. Wow. The great Nightwing, getting sassed by a kindergartener. This is the best day of my life.”

“We don’t _know_ that she’s a kindergartener,” Dick defends himself rather weakly. “She could be an esteemed first grader.”

“Whatever you say, Grayson.” She takes another look at the letter. “How’s Santa supposed to know where to go? She only says Sally. She doesn’t give a last name.” 

“Santa is magical,” Dick explains. Admittedly, it’s the answer Amy always gives _her_ kids when they ask an unanswerable Santa-related question.

“Fair enough,” Amy concludes. “So, is she getting her Christmas wish or not?”

“Probably not.” Dick returns to his Nightwing cookie, sticking the rest of it in his mouth. “I’m a busy man.”

Amy takes the platter of cookies, eyeing Dick conspiratorially. “We’ll see about that.” 

***

The next workday has Amy relentlessly pestering Dick on the issue. Well, it’s less that Amy herself is doing the pestering and more that she’s contacted one Barbara Gordon, the guy’s girlfriend, and convinced _her_ to pester Dick about it, but it more or less has the same effect. 

Amy can even hear Babs through the phone. It’s quite an entertaining conversation.

“Come _on,_ sweetie,” Babs begs. “Do it for the children.” 

“No,” maintains Dick. “You read the letter. This Sally was being a bit of a jerk about it. We police officers are enforcers of the law; we can’t give out the message that Santa grants you wishes if you’re rude. Anyways, it’s a nice thought. I’m just busy.”

“It’s literally part of your job,” Babs persists. Then, in a shout which is clearly directed at Amy: “why don’t you just order him to do it?”

“More fun this way,” says Amy with a shrug. 

“Come _on_ , you two. You know I love the kids, it’s just…” He trails off, having run out of arguments.

“Do it for your two favorite women,” Babs insists. Dick looks to Amy for confirmation. 

“You heard her,” Amy agrees.

Dick sighs heavily. “I’ll bring the Santa hat.”

***

Winter break has already started for Sally’s class, making it rather hard to comply with her Christmas wish. Luckily for her, Ms. Green is hosting a kindergartener (because Sally _is_ , apparently, a kindergartener) friendly Christmas Eve party for all of her students to enjoy. 

Amy calls ahead to ensure that both Sally and Edgar will be in attendance at the party and receives responses in the affirmative. Both childrens’ mothers had called to RSVP at least a week ago. 

“All set, Grayson,” Amy announces that night once the official work day has nearly ended. Of course, one can’t hold a party for kindergarteners _too_ late at night, so it’s only five in the afternoon. There are still some people running around in the building, even if they’ve closed off this wing under the pretense of housing a _classified operation_. 

“Just give me a moment,” grunts Dick. He is, to Amy’s neverending amusement, currently in the locker room pulling on his Nightwing suit. Or trying to, at the very least. 

“What, eaten too many doughnuts?” Amy teases.

“No,” Dick assures her. Another grunt. “It’s just--this thing has always been a little tight.” 

“Well, I should imagine that that’s superhero life tip number one,” says Amy, leaning closer to her side of the wall. “Get a suit two sizes too small. Really enhances the abs.” 

“I’m not saying you’re wrong, just that if you keep this up these kindergarteners’ll be getting a very grumpy Nightwing at their party tonight.” 

Amy really can’t argue with this, so she waits patiently for Dick--no, Nightwing, she reminds herself--to exit the dressing room. The abs are, in fact, enhanced. 

_Why does Barbara let him go out like that?_ Amy wonders. Her motherly instincts want to buy him a pair of Khakis and a baggy Hawaiin shirt what with all the creeps out there, just like she would her own children. _Then again,_ she supposes, _dealing with creeps is his day job. And his night job._

“You’re missing this,” says Amy, perkily producing Nightwing’s Santa hat from a nearby table and rising to her tiptoes to place it on his head.

“Of course,” Nightwing agrees. “So, are we ready to crash this shindig?” 

“That certainly sounds cooler than _make a special appearance at some random kindergarten class’s Christmas Eve party_ ,” Amy remarks.

“Exactly,” Nightwing agrees. “That’s why I chose that phrasing.” 

Amy chuckles. “Now let’s get out of here before one of your coworkers comes around and wonders why Nightwing’s here and Officer Grayson was excused early.”

“That would be quite the disaster,” Nightwing says, making a show of looking around the room. “Hey, do you think you could say that any louder? I don’t think _everybody_ in the station heard.” 

Amy has to admit that he has a point, so she stops talking in favor of pulling her coat from one of the coat hooks hanging on the outside of the womens’ locker room, which is conveniently near the mens’. 

Nightwing sees it, snapping his fingers. “Oh, right! I need one of those.” 

He ducks back into the locker room, emerging with a thin, green coat. It doesn’t look very warm, but Nightwing seems like the kind of guy who’s just perpetually warm no matter the circumstances, so Amy figures he doesn’t need anything too thick.

“You’ll have to take it off at the party,” she warns him. Nightwing’s face falls.

“Aw, man. Why? I’ll be so cold.” 

“The kiddies need to see the bird,” says Amy knowledgeably, taking care to say it a little bit more quietly than her other references to Dick’s superheroism. 

“I can keep it open. It’ll help with the whole winter theme.”

“Nope.”

Nightwing groans. “Alright,” he mutters, nose scrunching up in distaste. “Let’s go.”

With that, they head off. After some thought, they get into Dick’s personal car--while most kids would find a cop car cool, a select few are always a little intimidated or traumatized by some unfortunate yet necessary incident regarding one and a parent, though Amy has kept her police uniform on under her coat--and drive off into the snow.

Ms. Green is holding her party at her house, the address to which she’d gleefully given Amy when the situation had been explained. It’s something for which she is very glad; not every teacher would take kindly to a masked vigilante crashing their kindergarten friendly Christmas Eve party.

“We should have hired some sort of supervillain, too,” Amy remarks. “Nobody too dangerous. Nobody too scantily clad, either. Just somebody who’s butt they could watch you kick.” 

“Hate to break it to you, Ames, but that really, _really_ sounds like a recipe for disaster.”

Amy considers it. “Kiteman would have worked. He’s not that dangerous.” Nightwing cringes. “What?”

“It’s just that nobody would have recognized him,” he explains. 

“That’s true,” Amy allows. “Anybody who they would actually _recognize_ would be a disaster, actually. Maybe instead we could have made up a villain and had one of your hero friends dress up as them.”

When the conversation dies down, Amy commences a cookie check. She’d baked a batch of cookies decorated like Nightwing, just like the kind she’d let Dick try back at the station. 

“Those are cuter,” Nightwing notices. “I think you improved.” 

When they get to the party, Nightwing takes off his Santa hat to run a hand through his hair (he puts it back on, of course) and they knock on the door. A tall, kindly woman who looks to be about middle-aged answers.

“Hey,” she says. “I’m Ms. Green. You two can call me Carol. Thank you so much for offering to see the kids like this.” Indeed, she looks positively gleeful.

“My pleasure.” Nightwing beams down at her, sticking out a hand for her to shake. He suddenly seems far too sophisticated to be an acrobat in a black and blue skinsuit with a domino mask and a Santa hat. Amy stifles a snort of laughter.

After Mrs. Green has spent an appropriate amount of time wondering at Nightwing’s abs (the coat is unzipped), she turns around for just long enough to greet Amy.

“You must be Sergeant Rohrbach,” she says, dipping her head in greeting.

Amy smiles. “Oh, you can call me Amy,” she dismisses. 

Once again, the attention is focused on Nightwing. “Gosh, I just want to thank you for all you do for Blüdhaven,” she gushes. “It’s like having our very own Batman!”

“Thank you.” Nightwing beams. “It’s an honorable comparison.”

“It’s just,” Carol rambles on, “it’s so important to have somebody like you around when the police…”

Amy coughs.

“...when the police can’t catch all the baddies,” Carol finishes with a glance back into her house. “Yikes. _Baddies._ Being a kindergarten teacher really takes a toll on your vocabulary, let me tell you.” She ushers them into the house.

“You have very nice taste in furniture,” praises Amy as she enters the home. In reality, this Carol woman has a rather awful taste in furniture--floral patterns _everywhere_ \--and holding back an amused snort is a one mammoth of a task. If Amy is being sarcastic Carol doesn’t seem to notice.

“Thank you!” Of course, she’s still looking at Nightwing. Amy sighs. 

“So, when are the kiddos comin’ round?” queries Nightwing, pulling his coat more tightly around himself. Carol apparently doesn’t have any sort of a heating system.

“They should be here in ten,” Carol replies. “I invited little Sally early, since you’re her Christmas present and all.”

Carol proceeds to invite them to sit on the couch, handing them tiny paper cups intended for the kindergarteners filled with chocolate milk.

Amy takes one admittedly tiny sip of the drink and it takes all of her restraint not to choke; it’s _so_ sweet. Nightwing downs it in one gulp which is, admittedly, not much of a feat. Amy is impressed nonetheless.

“Coat off,” Amy says playfully, tugging at the collar of Nightwing’s winter wear. “As much as I hate for you to have the abs on display like this, you can hardly hide the logo.”

Nightwing dutifully pulls it off, Carol jumping to hang it on the coat rack. 

“Maybe I’ll bring a crop top next time,” he teases.

Carol glances at him hopefully. “Next time?”

Nightwing cringes.

When Sally arrives, her eyes widen like saucers at the sight of Nightwing and she gets that shocked look only very young children can really accomplish. She wears a red and green tutu with little crocheted candy canes sticking off of it. Her dark hair has been piled into a bun on the back of her head, and clips designed to look like Christmas ornaments are scattered throughout.

The best part, though, is easily the sweater she’s wearing. It's a red sweater with a reindeer wearing sunglasses on the front. The antlers are coiled with Christmas lights, but the catch is that they _actually light up_.

_Damn,_ thinks Amy in wonder. _I need some of those for my kids._

“N--n…n-- _Nightwing?”_ Sally gasps, putting her hands to her cheeks. Nightwing holds back a wide smile.

“That’s me, kiddo.”

“You came!” Sally runs up to Nightwing, leaping to hug around his shins. Amy wouldn’t have pegged him as being the paternal type, but he throws an arm under her legs and lifts her up like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“Of course I came,” Nightwing agrees. “Santa brought me.”

The effect is instantaneous: Sally’s face drops. “I missed Santa?” 

“Santa doesn’t let himself be seen,” Nightwing explains, “but he says hi, okay?”

“Okay,” mutters Sally, but she’s giving him the stink eye, and she’s crossed her arms defiantly over her chest. “I can’t believe you let me miss Santa.”

Nightwing gives Amy a look of worry, and Amy bursts out with laughter.

“So, Sally.” She turns to the girl. “Are you ready to show this Edgar kid who’s boss?”

Sally pumps a fist in the air. “Heck yeah!”

Nightwing laughs. “That’s the spirit.” He pats Sally on the head, then placing her back on the ground. “Also, I brought you this.” He produces a wrapped gift box.

Amy’s eyebrows raise slightly in surprise; she hadn’t known Nightwing had brought a gift. Clearly, it’s to show off the fact that he's wrapped it with Nightwing themed gift paper.

Sally rips off the paper to reveal a blue and black candy cane which looks, quite frankly, disgusting. She’s enchanted nonetheless.

“You didn’t bring Edgar one, did you?” she asks worriedly once the delight has worn off. Nightwing chuckles.

“Where would I keep _more_ of these?”

Sally considers. “You’re Nightwing,” she says simply, as though this explains everything.

Sally’s mother turns to Amy with a chuckle. “Oh, you’re a saint for making this happen.”

“It was nothing,” Amy dismisses with a shrug. 

“How do you know Nightwing, anyways?” the woman asks, bemused. “Is it a police officer thing?”

“Something like that.” 

Amy turns to see Nighting helping Sally tuck the still wrapped candy cane into the space between her ear and the side of her head, giggling happily. 

“I get it,” Sally’s mother assures Amy with a resigned sigh, “secret identities and all that. I appreciate it, is all I mean to say.”

It’s not a bad way to spend Christmas Eve. Amy thinks she might just ask him to make an appearance for her kids next year, too.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Just a bit of Christmas fluff for the soul, and because there's not enough Amy on ao3


End file.
